His body was filthy, covered with dirt, scratches and streaks of dried sweat. His lopsided face, wrapped with blood-stained strips of leather, swelled...hideously. The Light-Eye scarcely noticed his condition. Overcome by rage, he acted on instinct, and before anyone knew what was happening, his hand wrapped around the shaman’s throat. People shouted, pulling at his arm, his body, begging him, demanding him to stop, but he neither heard nor saw them. The Spiritwalker rasped, pleading for his life. ’”A warmth suffused me and I took a deep breath, expelling a small amount of the nervous tension that sat in my neck.“’I understand that this is a closed session. It will last until 10pm at the most.’”Four hours. The warmth flared up into a red-hot flame. Four whole hours. I clicked the pen twice, suddenly almost bursting with impatience.“’I have understood this declaration of consent in its entirety.’”I stared at the form for a short while. My eyes got caught again and again by the words. More

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